


The Future Is Never Far Away

by Tooti_Fruity



Series: Cacophony and Entropy and Apathy In NYC [7]
Category: Futurama
Genre: Bender is sad and gay, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Introspection, M/M, just let my sons be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 16:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11316978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tooti_Fruity/pseuds/Tooti_Fruity
Summary: Bender has learned enough to know better than to expect something mundane when people knock on his front door in the dead of night, but even he wasn't expecting this.Or, in which Bender is paid a visit by an old familiar face and has to make hard decisions about his relationship-and his future-with Fry.





	The Future Is Never Far Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rowan_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowan_one/gifts).



> If you haven't read any of the other stories in this series, all you really need to know for this story is that Fry got kicked out of his childhood home by his parents for being bisexual and for being in a relationship with Bender, and that he's been living with Bender ever since.

It was late when the knocking came at Bender’s front door and woke him up.

Fry, who was still asleep in his room (their room now, Bender noted with butterflies in his stomach), stirred at the noise, but Bender rubbed his bare back and mumbled a sleepy, ‘I’ll get it’, and Fry nodded, still half asleep. Bender slipped on his sweatpants and an old flannel, not bothering to button it up, and stepped through the apartment, rubbing the crust from his eyes and muttering a surly, ‘Christ, who knocks this late?!’

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming…” he called softly, minding his volume for his exhausted partner’s sake and opening the door, eyes heavy with sleep and feet even heavier. “Whaddya wa-”

His voice dropped out.

“Is Phil here?” Yancy Fry Jr. asked, voice painted with uncertainty. Bender’s face betrayed him, flickering into a snarl momentarily, before setting harder than stone.

“Who’s asking?” he seethed. Yancy hesitated, before replying.

“His brother. Come on, you know who I-”

“Do I?” Bender clipped back. “Because, this is pretty funny, see, I’m pretty sure Fry doesn’t have a brother. Because if he does, I would’ve already bashed his stupid fucking face in with my brass knuckles. I should really get on that,” 

Yancy swallowed stiffly, but his resolve seemed to harden. He crossed his arms and glared down at Bender. “I’m not leaving until you let me talk to him,” 

Bender’s expression twisted, and his voice, still gravelly from hours of vacancy, was low and dangerous. 

“Listen, bourgee boy, I’m gonna give it to you straight; Fry is sleeping in that room over there, _our room_ -” His expression grew even more cross as Yancy let out a small, disgusted noise at the implication of them sharing a room and the fact that the nature of the situation allowed him the very insight to repulse him in the first place. “-and he’s probably in dream land as we fucking speak. Ya gotta know how cute he is when he sleeps; you don’t wanna be the jerk that ruins the joy of seeing that, do ya?”

Yancy grew completely silent at that; his face was unreadable as he seemed to struggle for the right words, the words that might trick Bender into letting him in. He probably fancied Bender a cobra, someone to charm if he could pull off looking sorry enough for Bender to let his guard down and pity him. He grimaced at that prospect.

_Nice try, buddy. If I’m a cobra, you’re a fuckin viper. ___

__“What are you doing.” Yancy finally settled on. Bender furrowed his brow, unsure whether it was a question or an observation._ _

__“What are you on about, pretty bo-” Yancy met his eyes, cutting him off quietly._ _

__“I mean, what’s the plan here?” he said quietly. “I know you think I have a problem with you two fucking, but I don’t. I really don’t. So, I’m asking as sincerely as I can; what the hell is your angle? What’s endgame? What, you get a shitty apartment in Queens or Brooklyn or the Bronx? He’s a pizza boy forever, you do whatever the hell it is you do to get by? Constantly glance over your shoulder when you’re out because you’re open about fucking a guy? Live in fear of Phil not coming home one night because he can’t protect himself, because people can and will find out about you two and give him shit? I may not be Stephen fuckin Hawking, but I know my brother. I know Phil. And I know he thinks this is great, saying ‘fuck you, mom and dad!’ and running off to his big tough boyfriend, but he’s a kid, and when the novelty of you wears off, he’s gonna have no security, no safety net to fall back on. C’mon man, you might be an asshole, but you’re not an idiot. You and I both know you can’t give him what he needs; you can’t give him the life he deserves,”_ _

__Bender didn’t look up. His whole body shook with his rage, because Yancy _didn’t _just hit the nail on the head, _hadn’t _just stripped him down to his barest self, all the fear and anxiety he had battled since Fry turned up on his doorstep on a sticky, sweltering night so recently. His anger was no longer igneous, solid and unwavering and single-minded, forged by his own contempt; it was hot and painful and currently planting its boot solidly on his windpipe, crushing his voice and every single argument in his mind with his own insecurities._____ _

______“Look, just…tell him I came by. Give him this,” He paused to place a small scrap of paper in Bender’s hand. “It’s our friend Mikey’s number; if Phil wants to come home, he can call Mikey, and Mikey will let me know. I can convince our parents he had a lapse of faith or something, our mom will listen,”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He shook his head, sliding both hands in his pockets. “Or don’t. It’s your call, I guess. If you really care about him, though, you will give him this number, Bender. Find it in yourself to not be a selfish asshole for once in your life and think of what’s best for Phil,”_ _ _ _ _ _

______And with that, Yancy walked away, his steps heavy and purposeful as he neared the end of the hall, eventually reaching the top of the first set of the stairway he would need to descend. He spared Bender a final, lingering glance, before he disappeared down the dingy, concrete stairs._ _ _ _ _ _

______Bender stared down at slip of paper Yancy had given him, the color of the lines dimmed with what might have been age or erosion, and let his eyes focus on the incriminating digits of the phone number on it. He crumpled it up, closing and locking the door and deciding then and there that he could never tell Fry what had happened tonight.  
______

___But he froze as Yancy’s voice manifested in his conscience, chiding him for being dishonest, for putting his own needs above Fry’s, and he slid the paper into the ceramic ash trash on the book shelf by his parents’ bedroom and hid the bowl behind a stack of books. He reasoned that it was just a precaution, that he was only saving it to be on the safe side, that it may come in handy someday._ __

__And so, satisfied with his own certainty, or at least willing to lie to himself about it for the time being, Bender returned to bed, irritation reignited when he saw the glowing 3:37 AM on his alarm clock. He settled in, sliding between the sheets and feeling the press of Fry’s sticky skin against his, hearing his soft snores; he buried his face into the crook of Fry’s neck, sighing softly and breathing in the scent of sweat and pizza grease and ivory soap, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s body and closing his heavy eyes, slowly drifting into an unrestful sleep as the echo of Yancy’s final words rang in his ears.__

**Author's Note:**

> For rowan_one, who has kept me tethered to this fandom for nearly 8 months, and without whom I would probably would have never finished this or anything else.


End file.
